


Free Verse

by MamzelleCombeferre



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen, Poetry, slow updating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 17:32:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamzelleCombeferre/pseuds/MamzelleCombeferre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Sherlock Holmes themed free verse poems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Silence

It's mind blowing, and lasts only for a moment

Then screams

Shouts of re-lived pain

Of waking nightmares

Then there is the needle

Poised above my arm Clear,

Pure ecstasy

Can I be blamed for wanting peace?

But those screams

Taunting, daunting

Seem to say, "What right have you?"

"What right have you to escape, when I must stay to fight?"

I try to reason,

But ultimately there is no reasoning,

And I put the needle down.


	2. A Young British Soldier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is from the perspective of a young girl watching a young Watson as he waits for the boat that will take him to Afghanistan. I owe the idea to Monty Twain's portrayal of Watson's Family in "Legacies" and from Pompey's fic. "On Afghanistan Plains". I also stole the title from both the Rudyard Kipling Poem, and Pompey's other fic.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own. If I did would I be writing this? I don't own the last line either. It belongs to Rudyard Kipling.

There he stands,

His uniform still stiff,

Waiting for the boat to come.

He is alone.

No family to hug and reassure him.

No one to remind him he's doing the right thing.

Only two bags.

Going off to war.

The fact that he is a doctor,

Makes it no less daunting.

No less scary.

Makes him no less afraid.

All he has ever known,

Forsaken for the protection of others.

He checks his watch,

The boat has arrived.

Left up now to fate,

If his life is to take,

His bags are packed,

He doesn't look back,

And is off,

As a young British soldier.


	3. Withdrawal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This came to me quite by accident. I don't know what inspired me to write this, but maybe that's the better way of going about it.

**Withdrawal: Noun, Discontinuation of the use of an addictive substance and the physical and mental readjustment that accompanies such discontinuation.**

Calling.

Its sweet whispers,

Like a sirens song.

No! No...for Watson's sake no!

_-Oh but he doesn't have to know_

_It murmurs..._

My head reels.

It is true.

Watson is gone...

But he should know better than to leave me alone,

When I am still fighting this weakness...

This addiction.

I should have known better than to have stayed behind.

_-You should have known a great many things,_

_But we should not dwell in the past._

_Collapse in my embrace,_

_We can forget together._

No! You charming seductress no!

I should have known,

I have always known,

Yet didn't acknowledge,

Your love didn't come without risks,

Without danger.

And yet my longing to escape,

Overpowered my every sense.

The mind I believed I had complete control over,

Ran away with me, and yet-

_-You know you want me._

_Its voice grows harsher,_

_More desperate._

_You know you need me!_

Perhaps I did,

But now,

Now you are a problem,

An obstacle that must be obliterated,

Forgotten,

And destroyed!

Silence.

My voice is shaky.

Breath ragged.

Stomach turning.

My resolve is breaking.

My voice,

So defiant before,

Now feels weak.

_-See you do need me._

_Why fight?_

_Just give in_

_Like every other time before._

Excuses abound...

Cocaine and ambition,

When one is absent,

The other remains.

_-Who gave him the right to control you?_

_It sneers._

I gave him the right

The same way I gave it to you when I was young and foolish.

"Holmes!"

My friends voice rings out.

Warm, safe,

And the monster hisses,

Bowing out in retreat.

No more...

I whisper,

Humbly, defiantly.

My voice rings out,

Echoing in the empty silence.

I have won the battle,

The demon is gone,

Back into retreat,

But the war is far from won.

 


	4. Epiphany

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /N: This is a bit over romanticized for Holmes, but I think that Holmes needed to say some stuff too after The Problem. When you think about it, despite the fact that Watson believed his friend was dead, Watson still had the ability to make friends, whereas Holmes only had Watson as a friend and after the falls he had no one. But I hope you enjoy. Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I also want to dedicate this to Olabyrintho who makes me smile on a daily basis.

Epiphany

A flash of lightning,

Searing pain

To the world I am dead,

I no longer exist,

I am dead to myself.

Sherlock Holmes is no more.

The taste of freedom should be sweet,

But it disappoints.

I drop to my knees, not caring about the mud.

And I pray.

It occurs to me that I haven't prayed in years,

Does God even want to listen to me,

The lost sheep,

The broken man?

But then a sense of profound peace comes over me.

There is no other voice this could be.

Every pent up frustration escapes me in the form of tears,

Sobs,

A poignant purgation.

I am their for hours,

A second thought says only minutes, but I cannot tell.

The last of my strength is spent tearing myself away.

Even the roar of the falls is not loud enough to drown out the horrible sound of a desperate man.

I once said I was lost without my Boswell,

It was said flippantly, off-handed,

Now it is true,

And I don't know what to do.

Climbing down the falls,

My new life begins.

Emile Sigerson is born.

Looking back is no longer an option,

For if I did I couldn't survive,

But one last thing,

Two words,

Good bye.


	5. Vengeance

Vengeance

I have to catch you,

Need to find you,

You show up in my dreams.

There you stand,

Laughing,

Mocking me and my mistakes.

Mistakes that allow you to evade me one more time,

Always one more time.

It's a nightmare.

You're a mastermind,

The Napoleon of crime,

As well known to criminals,

As you are a unknown to the public.

You're the puzzle I haven't solved,

And it frustrates and enrages,

It ended over the falls.


	6. Stirring of the Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This was kind of a hard one to write for me. I purposely wrote this to be somewhat ambiguous. Warning for character death.

Stirring of the Wind

Can you feel the stirring of the wind?

The years fly by on the summer breeze,

And the winter gale.

We are getting older.

There is no denying it anymore.

Where did our energy go?

It disappeared with our youth.

It's getting harder to do what we did so well before.

Our dying day, which used to seem so far,

It's right around the bend.

I can almost feel it.

Getting older never seemed so scary before.

I'm not ready to leave this life yet,

Or more so, I am not ready to leave you behind.

You've always been the first one to go into the unknown,

Now all you can do is hold my hand till I am too weak to resist the pull of such a pure light.

The clock is ticking,

In perfect rhythm with my heart.

My breathing slows,

My hand raises to wipe your tears,

I want to tell you that this won't be the last time we meet.

Our souls will be together soon.

I'll wait for that day.

As my vision fades to black,

The last thing I see is your face.

And as I slip away,

...I am happy.


	7. Eternal Bachelor

She smiles,

His head spins,

I watch from the wings.

This drama unfolds,

It's ending untold.

Blossoming love.

This, I realize, I have never felt.

And for a moment, I feel sad, empty.

Even my brother , most unsocialable man he is,

Has felt the touch of woman's heart.

I harbor distrust of the fairer sex,

And with good reason,

But somehow...somehow...

Bah!

Love is a fools game.

A place to put your trust when no other place remains.

Not me.

I am independent.

I need not place my trust in anything,

For nothing and no one can be trusted.

I am the eternal bachelor,

And that I shall always remain.


	8. Sleepless in London

He startles awake,

A cold sweat envelopes him.

It is the fourth time this night.

What is it that frightens him?

A sweet dream,

Or a beautiful nightmare?

That both entices and repels

Also gives and takes,

Fixes and destroys.

Noise.

Sounds that leap from his imagination,

Into reality.

Scenes that occurred,

Before they became visions.

These are his demons.

So he reaches for another monster.

This one small, but sharp.

Thin and appealing, he tugs,

Pricks, and shoots.

Relief.

Endorphins that are bought at too high a price,

Yet are paid for all the same.

He sinks again.

Another man watches.

* * *

He cannot sleep either.

Their demons are different,

Yet oh so much the same.

He sees death,

Feels tears, till he wakes,

And realizes they are his own.

He sees long golden hair,

That flashes and is gone.

He walks his room at night,

Sleep deprivation still a better alternative than the visions

He hasn't gotten over,

Never really forgot-

Hurt, pain, grief, despair, relief, remorse,

All familiar feelings.

He despises his friends habit.

Nothing hurts him more than to see his one living friend,

Killing himself slowly,

One cell at a time

He will waste away,

Become a shadow of a hollow shell.

This haunts his nights as well.

* * *

Dawn approaches.

The orange and pink tints bring the promise of a new day,

Both will come down the stairs,

And pretend that nothing happened.

That neither of them,

Knows anything about the others habits.

But not even their landlady is ignorant.

She knows the same as them.

Yet they all pretend.

What a fine group of actors!

The new day begins.

A new client,

A new case,

And no more sleepless nights for now.


	9. The Fog

Clip Clop

Tick Tock

A whinny

A Bell

Sounds all around

But not seen

Only heard

The Fog covers them all.

The people walk

Children talk

But the Fog covers them all

Criminals stalk

Homes stand still

Babies cry

Birds fly

But they are over the Fog

Always staying

Never leaving

People bleeding

People dying

Escape is easy

Because of the Fog

The Fog chokes off life

It leaves those in it long enough

Empty shadows

That dance off the Fog

No light

A dreadful plight

All out of sight

Night is day, and day is night

In the Fog that covers all.


	10. Watson

He was extraordinary, yet ordinary

Common, but never plebeian

A describer of the fantastic,

And in the process,

Became grand himself.

He had his faults, yes,

But so much more character

A model of decorum and pride.

Yet underappreciated.

He never got the thanks he deserved,

But it was always important to him

That he try his hardest,

That he always fully threw himself into the task at hand,

Whether it was helping the ungrateful,

or saving those in need of it.

A gentle spirit.

And a soldier.

A fighter for justice.

His weapon not always a revolver,

But a pen,

And paper.

A brave man,

A stern man,

But above all,

A merciful man.


	11. Unrestrained

Racing,

Pulsing,

Slide.

How smoother her neck feels.

Sweet music,

Discord,

Then silence.

Art in the blood

May manifest itself in strange ways,

But this is beauty.

The time he forgets logic,

A purely sensual pleasure.

He is happy to see his companion

Filled with such a sweet joy.

This is no artificial stimulant.

It is his own form of therapy.

Allowing him to be unrestrained,

If just for a little while.

No chains, no conventions,

Just wild beauty.

How much I love that smile.

The smile that remains

Even as he caressingly puts the violin away

Then he stops,

Composes himself,

And puts on his public front.

It is abrupt,

And unsettling for some,

But I know what lies behind.

Never ending music,

And a heart.


End file.
